


Constricted

by 140298



Series: Elgar'adahlen [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Death Threats, Depression, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Assault, Slavery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6046188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/140298/pseuds/140298
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elgar'adahlen was 8 years old when he realised it was useless to cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first fic posted on here so I hope you enjoy! There's some pretty sensitive topics mentioned in this work, so please be careful and check the tags.

Elgar'adahlen was 8 years old when he realised it was useless to cry. Tears made Master angry and angry Master meant scars and broken bones. Before this age, Elgar'adahlen, otherwise titled Servus, Kaffas, and later, Cassius, wasn't aware of this unspoken rule and cried almost constantly. He cried because he wanted to go home, because the rat he'd been looking after under the bed had been caught and drowned, because his hands burned and cracked and bled because of how much he cleaned, because he was hungry and he never got enough food to quell the growling in his stomach and the noise annoyed Master, because his mother wasn't there to hold him the nights she was with Master in his quarters and he missed her so, so much and he knew she didn't want Master touching her but she couldn't say no. His crying was deemed a nuisance by the Punishers and over time the beatings he received became more and more violent and his emotions became more and more subdued. He began to function robotically, his mother worrying over him even with her failing health and one morning when he turned over in their shared bed and was met with his mothers lifeless stare, he felt a hollow sense of nothingness that persisted even after they made him drag her cold body outside into the elements to rot and he'd spend the nights sitting and staring at the wall in his cell. It wasn't until 3 months later, when Master approached him and ran his fingers through greasy, red hair and commented on how much he resembled his mother, that he cried. The beating after wasn't worth the breakdown.

As he matured the beatings became less frequent and his passiveness escalated. Master grew fond of him, a mixture of admiration for his work ethic and perversion due to the likeness he shared with his mother. The Master showed favouritism in obvious ways. The elf no longer had to scrub the kitchen floors and instead catered to the Master personally, fetching his food and cleaning his clothes. He knew if he was older he'd be doing what his mother did. At the age of 14 the Master began to take him out of the grounds to high-class parties and gatherings as a decoration, dressing him in elegant clothing and diamond piercings with a cuff and collar made of pure gold. It was around this time his name was converted to Cassius, a trinket such as him had no need for a lowly elven name. During these events, Elgar'adahlen would stand in silence, speaking and smiling when required and becoming slowly consumed by the emptiness that infested his heart and soul, the upper class scum of Tevinter praising his Master for owning such a beauty and subjected to lecherous gazes and touches.

 

* * *

 

 

He was 15 when his rebelliousness was sparked. The other slaves despised him or pitied him, jealous of the attention he received from Master or horrified by it. He became prone to short outbursts of frustration, flying into rages where no one could see, breaking his few belongings and screaming until the Punishers beat him into silence. Master would beat him too later, claiming he deserved it for being bad, he didn't want to hurt his precious toy, but Elgar'adahlen knew he found pleasure in his screams and cries and fought to stop them, resulting in whispered threats of 'If you don't scream I can do things to make you scream' and 'I could finally put you're pretty face to actual use, then you might start listening'. Sometimes afterwards he'd pleasure himself as Elgar'adahlen lay emotionless on the floor, overhearing the noises his Master made a few feet away.

He didn't see the Mistress often before her husbands new found interest in him, but after his adoration became apparent, she kept a watchful eye on the elf, asking him to do chores so he was out of reach of her husband, sending him to the opposite end of the estate so he wouldn't find him. One day, after his Master had had enough of him and asked him to clean the sheets that had been dirtied with blood and other bodily fluids, the mistress had stormed towards him, having seen the sheets and fuming with hatred.

"It was bad enough when he was fucking your mother," she'd snarled, "at least she was a woman, even if she was a knife ear. But if he fucks you, that's a whole different story. If I catch word that he's lain with you, I'll be sending you straight off to the whore house with the rest of you kind, or I'll slit your fucking throat. Do you understand?" She waited for a reply, when she didn't receive one, she slapped him across the face, "Disgusting, that's what you are, chasing after men, as soon as I can sell you, you won't have to chase after anyone, you'll get all the cock you want from other disgusting creatures like you and you'll cry and beg and they'll never set you free, you'll die there in the dirt and grime and rot in the street like your mother." She stalked off, leaving him to gather up the sheets from the floor, the familiar numbness permeating his being again.

 

* * *

 

One evening at a particularly extravagant party at the noble house of Pavus, Elgar'adahlen stood behind his master, golden chained linking them together. The Master was conversing with the head of the Pavus family, Magister Halward Pavus, who had just finished admiring him and was intrigued by how the Master had procured 'a real, live dalish elf, and such a subservient one!', whilst the Master informed him how 'Cassius' had been taken at a very young age from a now non-existent dalish clan that wandered far too close to Tevinter borders and discussed the astonishing amount he had paid for him and his mother. As the two Magisters conversed, the son of the Pavus family regarded the elf before him, disbelieving that someone so pretty could actually be male. Elgar'adahlen fought the blush that came to his cheeks at being watched by such a 'handso-no thats wrong, don't think like that' man. Caught up in his own head, he hadn't noticed the man approaching until he stood before him, grinning devilishly.

"Hello there! May I inquire as to your name? I am sure you're already aware of mine, everyone is at this blasted party. Are you not bored? All you've done is stand here in silence for the past four hours!"

Elgar'adahlen stood in shock, unsure which question to answer first, so he decided to take them in order.

"Master calls me Cassius, sir"

"Cassius? Oh my what an absolutely atrocious name!" He half whispered as the elf stood there in horror, terrified of the Master overhearing, "Hmph! You sure are dressed well for a slave aren't you? The prettiest bauble in the entire room I'd say! I'm sure you're mast-"

"Dorian!" Magister Halward shouted, "Get away from that slave now!"

Dorian rolled his eyes and obliged, drifting off into the crowd as Elgar'adahlen watched him leave, hollowness in his stomach. A sharp yank of the chain around his neck brought him back to his senses,

"Apologies, Magister Halward, but I must make my leave, my wife is awaiting me at home," he tugged on the chain again, "Come Cassius."

Master remained quietly furious through the ride home, for reasons Elgar'adahlen remained uncertain of until they walked through the doors of the Masters estate and he backhanded him with enough force that the elf was knocked to the ground. It only registered after tasting blood in his mouth that Master had hit him with his ring hand and his once faultless face was scarred. The idea of uselessness flooded his senses, master wouldn't want a damaged decoration, he'd be sold, he'd become nothing but a worthless whore and he'll die in the dirt and grime and rot in the street like his mother did.

"Kaffas! Look what you made me do!" Master screeched, "I saw you, you fucking bitch, preening yourself in front of the Pavus boy, what were you expecting, huh? Did you think if you were lovely enough he'd take you from me? He'd whisk you away?" Elgar'adahlen shook his head hurriedly, "That bastard would have fucked you right there and then if he could have, is that what you want? To be nothing more than a fuck toy for an over privileged little shit? I should have known you'd out to be a slut just like your mother. You're lucky I haven't touched you yet due to principles, even with you standing around like you do, showing off all the time with you're pretty face. I'll teach you to disobey me."

After his outburst the Master beat him until his back was raw, burning the back of his thighs and carving his slave number deeper into his skin 'as a reminder', before pleasuring himself over his broken body and dragging him into the dark slave quarters to sob in agony.

He would be 16 soon and the horror that came with that realisation burned deep into his fractured soul. Master would say he was old enough, Master would do what he finally wanted to do and Mistress would find out and he'd die or he'd be sold and then he'd die in the dirt and grime and rot in the street like his mother did. Her eyes stared back at him in the dark when he tried to sleep, he felt the coldness of her skin on his fingertips, her dead weight on his shoulders, his breath caught and he struggled to breathe, escalating into full on panic. He didn't sleep that night, the sound of his choked off sobs echoing in the darkened cell that held his mothers ghost.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, two days before he turned 16, the Master and Mistress went away for two evenings, leaving him behind due to the cut on his face and the bruising yet to go down after nearly a month of healing. The household was left to the close friends of his Master, a Mistress Claudia and a Master Almadrius, who watched over the order of the household and made certain the slaves were working up to standard. Elgar'adahlen, during this respite, had been confined to his cell in case he 'tempted' any of the visiting guests. His food was brought to him by an elf he didn't know, a slave of Master Almadrius perhaps, who had come once in the morning when they had arrived. At the second visit of the slave, he introduced himself as Haris and revealed himself not to be a slave, but a trusted servant of Master Almadrius and Mistress Claudia, he asked and recieved Elgar'adahlens slave name, before leaving to attend to other duties. On the third visit, he came into the room and sat, silently watching the young elf who merely stares back, before breaking the silence.

"You're the pet, aren't you? The favourite?" Elgar'adahlen looked down in shame, "I can tell cause you're fed so well, and you're amazingly well groomed. How old are you boy?"

"15,"

"Are you a pleasure slave?"

"No, not yet"

"Ah," the older elf hummed in understanding, "I assume it won't stay that way for long." The silence returned,

"I know you weren't born into this, you're dalish, aren't you? What's your actual name? Your Elven name?" The boy stared at him, transfixed, before answering,

"I was taken young, our camp was raided, me and my mother were sold." He paused, "The name my mother gave me is Elgar'adahlen."

Elgar'adahlen snorted, "I can't exactly be more, I've never known any different, you can't just drag me out of this without expecting repercussions and if you're trying to convince me to escape, I'll have to deal with the shit that happens when we get caught."

"My employers are sympathetic to your cause. The front they put on is remarkably convincing, but I promise you, thats all it is. They can guarantee you safe passage south, possibly as far as the Graves and supply you with enough food and protection to last until you get help. I will personally escort you as far as I can without drawing suspicion and we will inform your master that after his treatment of you, you became ill and died whilst he was away. We don't have much time and I'm going to need you to make a decision."

Elgar'adahlen stared wide eyed at the older elf, his brain attempting to proccess the plethora of information that had just been forced upon it. When it finally did, a small warmth began blooming in his chest, a feeling he thought he'd lost the capacity to have. "Please," he gasped, the hope he felt lacing into his words, "Please get me out."

Haris gave him a firm smile and clasped his hand on his shoulder,

"Preparations have already been made young one, we will leave at dusk." And with that he stood up and left, the resounding bang of the door echoing in Elgar'adahlen's brain as the last time he would ever hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haris frees Elgar'adahlen, with some difficulties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update this at least once a week, but depending on my schedule and life stuff that might change! Once again please be wary of the tags before reading! This chapter involves much more violence than the last one and a small scene which is quite graphic, just as a warning.

Elgar'adahlen failed to properly form a thought after Haris' visit. He stared at the wall with anxiety, trepidation and excitement squirming inside his stomach. Unable to properly tell the passing of time, he began tapping his foot for every second that passed, sometime after 14400 he heard the lock click. For a split second he was filled with doubt, what if this was a ploy? A trick for his Master to test his allegiance? The thought filled him with intense nausea, panic began crawling up his throat and his breath halted. Just before he could descend into full blown panic, Haris peered around the corner and his face bloomed into a gentle smile. The expression immediately filled him with ease, the energy coming from the man completely devoid of the sadistic nature he had come to associate with his Master, a scorching aura that reminded him of the branding he had received when he was first sold. This was softer, a reminder of a warm and gentle approach he could only vaguely imagine, filling his head with the thought of soft brown hair and sky blue eyes, a father who graced only the peripherals of his concious mind.

"Come on then dahlen, time to go home"

 

* * *

 

 

The walk from the basement of the mansion to the workers exit through the back proved to be uneventful. The temporary Master and Mistress had ensured the halls would be empty before the sun set, claiming an early start would be more beneficial for the house work. Haris hastily pulled a cloak from the bag across his shoulder, gently helping the younger elf get it over his head to hide his face, before leading him to a large black mare hidden in the forestation behind the house.

"Stay low. If anyone sees you this could all be over. And I dread to think what would become of you," he placed a gentle hand on his back and helping him onto the horse,"we'll be riding for about 9 hours, no stopping or resting. You'll be a free man soon."

Haris pulled himself onto the horse behind Elgar'adahlen, securing the small boy, who he knew had probably had no experience with the creatures before.

"I-if I don't get a chance to say it later," the young elf whispered, "Thank you, thank you so much. I don't know what I did to deserve this but I will never forget it." He forced himself to choke back the tears he felt forming, not wishing to attract any attention. With no other words, Haris spurred the horse forward, not wishing to waste any time.

 

* * *

 

It was barely even half way to Qarinus when Haris realised something as wrong. There was a deadly silence, not even permeated by the shriek of birds, and Elgar'adahlen had become increasingly anxious, his slight shaking from nerves had increased to a violent level and when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out hoarse and terrified.

"There's someone following us," he hissed, "I can feel it."

Haris did not ask why the boy was so sure, merely placed one of his hands to his hip, near his throwing knives, whilst gripping the reigns tightly in his left. Suddenly, with little warning, a man burst from the shadows of the trees, blade ready in hand, only to make it barely two steps before one of the blades had embedded itself in his skull. The death of the attacker acted as a catalyst, ten more men, some armed with blades, some with magic, flooding from the trees. Haris swore and pushed the horse faster, attempting to outrun them, throwing his blades as he went. Four more of the attackers fell, before a blast from one of the mages caught the mare on her back leg, an awful sound erupting from her mouth as she tumbled to the floor, along with her riders.

Haris pulled himself off of the forest floor, ignoring the injuries he felt and grabbed Elgar'adahlen's arm, dragging him along and into the cover of the bushes, hoping to gain them at least a bit of time. After running for almost 20 minutes, the sound of their pursuers growing steadily closer, Haris spotted a small alcove, throwing the boy ahead of him, before ducking after him.

The smaller elf was collapsed on the floor, exhausted from the most exercise he had probably ever been made to do. The lack of proper food and care over the years had caused him to become too weak to even run long distances and his breath was leaving his lungs in whistling rasps. Haris shushed him gently, peering over the shelter of the bushes where they were hidden, supplying more cover than the alcove around them. As soon as he spotted the glint of armour, he threw a knife, five down. The clatter of armour attracted the others and Haris could only nick one with one of his blades before the mage discovered their hiding place. The older elf turned to grab the boy, only to see him struggling to his feet himself, teeth gritted in determination.

Before they could make to run again, one of the remaining mages conjured a wall of fire, trapping them where they stood, before he could thing, Haris threw another knife, hitting the mage in the chest and sending her to the ground. The remaining four surged forwards as the fire depleted, one of them tackling the older elf to the ground and pinning him, blade to his throat. He quickly glanced at Elgar'adahlen, who took the hint and got up to make a run for it, before one of the attackers grabbed his too long hair and pulled him onto his back, dragging him toward the rest of the group screaming and writhing.

"You little fuckers," one of them snarled, kicking Haris harshly in the ribs, "more trouble than you're worth. We'll have to ensure the magister pays more than we agreed. 800 sovereigns isn't enough for the lives of six good men. Lets have a look at him then, see why he's such a big deal."

The man pinning Elgar'adahlen down pulled his face from the dirt by his hair, both him and the assumed leader peering at his face.

"Well, he sure is a pretty one. I can understand why his master is so protective. A little extra insurance doesn't hurt." He snorted, coming to look closer at him. "Hmmm, he sure is pretty."

The man pinning him down chuckled, "You think the magster would mind if he comes back a little roughed up? By the looks of it the kids used to it." Haris' blood ran cold and Elgar'adahlen could feel the twisted tendrils of panic clawing at his throat. The leader grinned and hummed in agreement.

"Kaffas, you fools, he's supposed to be unharmed," one of the women hissed, only to be stopped by the leader.

"One slaves purity is worth six good Fereldan and Tevinter men I'd say, we take off the extra coin, we get our pay another way, that's how this works."

The man pinning Elgar'adahlen down suddenly flipped him over, the boy struggling against the larger man's hold in panic, distressed noises creeping their way out of his throat. Haris clawed at the ground shouting at them to leave it, to take his life instead, screaming for mercy. The leader merely laughed and began advancing toward the slave, whose clothes were being torn at by the brute pinning him down.

That's when it happened. The cold tendrils of panic in Elgar'adahlens throat transformed into white hot rage, seeping through his entire body and through his fingertips. He let out a snarl and grabbed the throat of the man above him, who suddenly began screaming in agony. He leapt back from his captive, flames spreading through his clothes, burning him alive.

"Fuck!" The leader screamed, "he didn't tell us he was a fucking mage! Quickly kill hi-" He was cut of by a large burst of energy surging past him, shattering his arm as it impacted and throwing the woman behind him into a tree, snapping her spine. In the mayhem Haris wrestled the sword from his captors grasp and swiftly impaled her on it. He turned to deal with the leader, only to find him yelling in pain on the floor, with the boy standing above him.

Haris had seen many terrifying things in his life, brutality had ceased to shock him for many years, but the look in Elgar'adahlens eyes spoke of much more than brutality, they were filled with fear, pure rage and desperation. Before the man beneath him could protect himself, the elf had brought down a rock Haris had only just noticed onto his head, repeating the action over and over again with a scream that echoed pain and anger, soaking the stone and his hands in blood and brain matter. The older elf stood in shock and watched as the boy continued long past the man's last movement's and by the time he had stopped, there was little left of the man's head.

Elgar'adahlen stayed where he was for a few moments, heaving in his breaths, before dropping the rock and rolling off to the side, exhausted from his sudden lack of control. When Haris advanced toward him, he noticed that he was staring at his bloodied hands in shock, the smallest of tremors moving his entire form.

"I-I didn't know I coul-I didn't know that was possible. I-I've never." He lapsed into silence.

Haris moved closer, grabbing a cloak off of the nearby corpse and helping the boy up before draping it over his shoulders.

"Come on dahlen, we must move."

He chanced a final look back at the carnage they had caused, a sick feeling twisting within his stomach and a heightened desperation to see this boy on the next boat to Antiva as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading and sorry for the late update! I will try and update again next week, maybe earlier if I can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haris and Elgar'adahlen discuss freedom an its consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I am the worst person ever for updating. Sorry about that! This chapter includes brief mentions of abuse, bodily harm and suicide.

After the incident, Haris decided it would be wiser to keep a closer eye on the younger elf. He had shown himself to be capable, but also possibly dangerous. The boy sat in his stolen, bloodied cloak, eyes glazed as he stared into the fire they'd started in an attempt to ward off the chill that crept into Tevinter nights. They'd b heading north until Qarinus, where a ship that would take Elgar'adahlen around the border to Antiva. Haris would only go as far as Qarinus before heading back, there were others who would take the responsibility of the boy's freedom.

The older elf took a moment to asses the figure in front of him. Youth dominated his face, elegant, high cheekbones, dotted with freckles and slightly rounded cheeks. Full lips and an upturned nose gave him a sense of almost doll like beauty; harsh, grey/brown eyes framed by long, full lashes, filled with years of torment and new found determination. His chin length hair fell around his face freely, deep red, a shade nearing that of mahogany, complimenting the deep tan of his skin. His face had one imperfection, a rarity in such coddled slaves, a small scar that nicked his cheekbone, stopped and continued as a small line through his top lip. Haris guessed it was the result of a slap, more than likely with a ring hand, he felt anger well up as a steady storm in his stomach.

Momentarily distracted by his own emotions, he hadn't realised the kid had turned his attention to him. Umber eyes glared into royal blue and Elgar'adahlen spoke for the first time in hours.

"Why me?" He said simply, but before Haris could answer, he spoke again, "There were plenty of others you could have taken, plenty of others that were suffering more than I was. Thinking about it, I'm wondering if this is even a rescue attempt at all. Maybe you're just here to sell me, then take the money right back to your masters." He paused again, leaning back and taking in the servant, "Dalish elves are expensive. But they're only priceless if they're fresh, unmarked and untamed, a pre-owned dalish saps the fun out of disciplining them. So I don't think you're going to sell me, but what else could you want? Is this a power play against my Master? A game? A hostage situation? Because if you mean to give me back to him, I will kill myself."

Haris looked at Elgar'adahlen in shock for a moment, "I'm not going to sell you, or ask for a ransom. This isn't meant to be a scheme for money. I am gaining some profit out of this, but its not money, its for my own personal gain and the gain of other slaves like you. And why you? If you must know the truth, it wasn't just you. My associates and I freed 5 slaves the other night, all being sent to different locations. You specifically were chosen due to your age and origins, as well as your significance to your master.This is a non-profit power play. The more slaves we get to free lands, the more stories spread outside of Tevinter, the more opposition Tevinter and its slave trade gain. We are attempting to rouse a revolution, an uprising against the system that kept you in despair for so many years. We can rise abo-"

"That's enough. Listen, I agree with the freeing of the slaves stuff and everything, but do you seriously believe that we will talk about our experiences so freely? That we'll be able to blend back into society like we've always been a part of it? Me and these slaves you've been freeing, we don't know how to be free. Kaffas, some of them are probably terrified of it. We don't know how to live a life without orders. A slave who has been beaten and abused for years thinks its normal. Before you set us free, you need to tell us its not normal. You need to teach us. Because as soon as I get on that boat in Qarinus I'll have no idea what to do, there's no one there to guide me, to control me. It's going to take me years to even know who I really am, because I've led an entire life of people deciding my personality for me. Did you think about that?"

"Maker, you're smarter than I am kid. Honestly, I never considered it. I have been luckier than most, my masters have been kind, I've been allowed free will. I suppose I never thought of the effect it has on the mind." He took a deep breath and bowed his head, "I want... I hope, to make this easier for you and for the others. As my designated target, I researched as much as possible, went back through buyers, traders, smugglers and I found out where you came from. The people who raided your clan, the areas they hunted and in the end, I found the remnants. Unfortunately, your clan is all but gone, they split up, ran to other groups for safety. But I managed to find a link, a clan not far from yours. My people spoke with them, we made a deal. They're going to take you in."

Elgar'adahlen stared at him in shock, his breathing becoming heavier.

Haris gave him a small smile, "I'm going to try and send you home."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elgar'adahlen supposed he'd never understand, they had lead completely different lives, both of servitude, but of completely separate natures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so basically I would offer some kind of excuse but I have none other than the the fact that I'm basically really, really lazy. Like jesus christ I'm awful. So sorry once again! 
> 
> Mentions of abuse, self-harm, sexual abuse and suicidal thoughts.

Elgar'adahlen wouldn't say he completely trusted Haris, in fact he still considered every word he spoke with a level scrutiny. After the 'reveal' he supposed he had become more accepting, but he'd let himself be tricked again. He had to be vigilant. If they ran into another group of hired swords or bandits he had decided that he would just run, not caring about the fate of the other elf. He supposed he was nice, nicer than anything he knew, but he was still stubborn, unwilling to listen his claims that a war against the nobility of Tevinter would be a stupid idea, he was understanding when the younger elf would wake screaming, but was cold when mere words or small actions would lead to a fit of panic. Elgar'adahlen supposed he'd never understand, they had lead completely different lives, both of servitude, but of completely separate natures. For the first few days, the two of them argued incessantly. Elgar'adahlen would admit he could be ignorant in some, if not most areas, but Haris seemed to be completely dismissive of any ignorance he had, always claiming that he was right and sometimes his almost parental attitude drove him mad. He may look and be young, but in his opinion, the suffering he had faced had forced the young elf to mature far quicker than most, so when Haris would speak in a patronising tone about something that was so infuriatingly _obvious_ he couldn't help but get frustrated.

He had thought he was being a bit harsh. Haris  _had_ helped him escape. He just supposed it would take a long time for him to trust anyone again. They had been travelling together for nearly two days and Elgar'adahlen was yet to sleep a full night. The forest was far too loud, filled with the rustling of leaves and calls of birds, sometimes the birds would sound like screaming in his head. It made him want to burst his own eardrums. He had contemplated telling Haris about it, but the thought of coming off as pathetic embarrassed him so much he thought better of it, he wasn't even sure the older elf liked him. He was far too hard to read. He was quiet and blunt, sometimes not even bothering to answer Elgar'adahen's questions. It pissed him off.

Sometimes all Elgar'adahlen wanted was to go back. It sounded awful, he knew it did, but at least back there he knew what horrors awaited him. This new, open world was unknown to him and the unknown was terrifying. His hair had started to tangle and the feeling of dirtiness had crept further and further into his skin. It made him anxious, Master hated it when he was dirty. Sometimes he'd beat him for it. Or he'd bathe him himself, a whore can't be filthy after all. He never did decide which was worse. He wanted a bath He wanted to ask Haris for a bath. He also didn't want to ask Haris for a bath. Was he supposed to ask anymore? Or could he just do things? He supposed it was safer to ask. But then how does he ask? He didn't want to sound childish or needy. He just wanted to be clean.

"Hey, whats got you so wrapped u in your head? Stop thinking so hard, you'll hurt yourself." The voice makes the younger elf jump and grip his cloak tighter. A small crackle bursts in the air before disappearing. 

"Um-I I want a bath." He replied, rapidly becoming angry at his weak tone.

Haris wrinkled his nose in thought, "I guess we'll need to bathe before we get to Qarinus. It'll be too suspicious for two elves to be wondering around in this state." He looed at the sky to assess the time. "I'll start looking for some water in a bit. If we hurry after that we'll be there by tomorrow morning. You up for travelling all night?"

Elgar'adahlen didn't answer, he just nodded vaguely, looking at the ground. 

 

* * *

 

"Aren't you going to go in? You're the one who asked." Haris sounded annoyed. Elgar'adahlen had wanted a bath, but now he was staring at the water of the small lake like it as going to burn him. Haris' eyes were glaring uncomfortably into his still clothed back. The area was too open. Anyone could see, anyone could attack. 

"Dahlen, calm down." It was only when the other elf spoke that Elgar'adahlen realised he'd started to hyperventilate, the nails in his forearm digging in so deep they drew blood, "You need to tell me whats wrong. I can try and help if I know."

Elgar'adahlen breathed deeply, mulling over the words before he spoke them. "I don't want you to look at me. But I want you to make sure no one comes...so-so can you just wander around for a bit, make sure its safe? Stay close though i-in case I need you."

Haris merely nodded before stalking off, leaving Elgar'adahlen by himself. He stripped off his cloak, arms quickly crossing back over his chest to cover the scars there, knowing attempting to cover the ones on his back and thighs would be fruitless. Before he could think too much about his exposed back, he delved into the cold water, trembling as he squatted down enough for it to reach his chin. He washed as quickly as possible before dunking his head into the water and attempting to untangle the mess it had become. As soon as he emerged again, he rushed out of the water, wrapping the cloak back around him for warmth before he got dressed. Just as he turned to pick up his clothes, a thick hand gripped around the back of his neck and he froze. 

A rough voice whispered in his ear, "Stay still bitch."

All the air left his lungs. He couldn't speak or move. The mans hand was pushing the cloak of his shoulders, his mouth dangerously close to his neck.

"There it is," the mans fingers skimmed over his slave brand. He wanted to throw up. 

Breathing quickened again as he attempted to think his way out. He couldn't find the ability to scream for Haris' help and the hand on his neck and arm were stopping him from moving too much. He looked down and spotted a dagger on the mans thigh. There wasn't enough slack for him to stab the man, but if he was going to assault him or give him back as he thought he was, he was prepared to do so to himself. 

Fear was wrapping itself around his throat. The man was saying something, but all Elgar'adahlen could hear was the blood rushing through his veins. It was then he remembered the blind fury and fear that had invoked that  _thing_ in him before. He frantically searched into the back of his mind for any sign of it, but all he could find was panic, panic, _panic._ He was more vulnerable than before, more available. He cursed himself. How could he be so stupid, how could he-

There was a thwack as a knife collided with the mans skull and for a second Elgar'adahlen thought he was going to fall on him before his body went slack and he scrambled from underneath his arm, gripping the cloak tightly around his middle and toppling on the floor, heaving and sobbing in pure panic. He looked around for the source of the dagger before spotting Haris rushing toward him.

He got up and stumbled slightly toward the man before tumbling into his open arms. The older elf was murmuring apology after apology, but Elgar'adahlen could only feel relief as he clung to the back of the mans coat, burying his face into his chest as Haris' warmth rocked him back and forth. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit short :/. Once again thanks for reading! I'd say I'll update quicker next time but I'm shit so that probably won't happen. Please leave constructive criticism in the comments! Itd really help


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of injuries, suicidal thoughts/thought of death, abuse and death. Also includes minor trauma related flashbacks.

They reached Qarinus at first light, the traders and merchants just starting to set up their stalls, a low thrum in the air as they talked amongst themselves. Haris walked slightly behind Elgar'adahlen, back straight, a harsh confident eye as he gripped the younger elf's shoulder firmly, pushing and guiding him. Elgar'adahlen was barely there, anxiety firmly trapping him in his own head. His hands clenched around his cloak, twisting it in between his fingers. He whispered a mantra under his breath, praying and praying that they wouldn't be caught. The hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him grounded, a link to a world he was ready to escape from at any given chance. Haris leaned forward, close enough that he could whisper without being heard.

"No eye contact, okay, just keep walking straight ahead. Right now, you're still a slave." His grip tightened for a moment, pulling the younger back into the present.

Following Haris' instructions, he watched his feet as he walked, noticing all the scars and scratched on his bare feet, eyes focused on the particularly nasty cut on his right foot. Would it get infected? Would that infection be enough to kill him? If he got caught, he hoped it did. He was almost hoping it would anyway, the bone deep gnawing of anxiety followed him constantly, weighing him down. He was so tired. 

A whip cracked and bile fought its way up his throat. _Useless slut, can't even carry a fucking tray._ The whip cracked again, a cry rang out.  _Pain, searing in his back, like flames licking their way up the back of this thighs and torso, he wanted to scream, but a strong hand was wrapped around his throat an-_ a harsh shake brought him back to the present. 

"Shush, dahlen, you're with me. Its a trader." His eyes sought out the source of the noise, landing on a tall, burly man dragging a filthy elf by their hair back to a huddle of other, dirty elves. A few of them were children, gripping onto the legs of the older ones, watching as the victim of the whipping fell to the floor in front of them, sobbing in pain. Elgar'adahlen averted his eyes. Had he once looked like that? Gripping onto his mothers legs, eyes wide as he struggled to understand the horror he saw before him? He couldn't even remember. That child had died a long time ago. 

A few of the merchants shouted out to them, before realising the pointed ears and falling silent. The first couple of times had nearly made Elgar'adahlen sick, before he remembered the house crest on Haris' cloak, the band on his arm showing his free passage to transport another elf, his finer clothes marking him as more than a slave. When they'd reached the gates, Haris had handed all of the packs to the boy, tying a rope around his left wrist and linking him to his belt. "Adds to the illusion," he'd said as he'd pulled it taut. He could already feel the skin beginning to chafe and rub. He didn't dare complain to Haris, knowing the elf was set in his role as courier and fearing the backlash he would receive if one of the public heard him. He grit his teeth and adjusted his hand, forcing through the pain as his skin was cut away.

The noises of the market were becoming suffocating, pressing against his ears, crushing his brain. He breathed in deeply through his nose, steadying himself into the psyche he had but a few days ago. A encompassing numbness filled him, his mind going almost blank, moving forward in an almost robotic way. It was as though he'd trapped himself in his own head, the pain in his wrists fading, the rough ground under his feet fading from existence. His shoulders hunched further, neck lowered, feet began dragging. Fear cut through the bubble he'd made himself, startling him. The numbness scared him, he didn't have to feel that way anymore. He repeated the mantra over and over again in his head, keeping his movements the same and trying to block out the chaos of the marketplace. 

'If you don't notice them, they won't notice you' repeated. Maybe if he pretended they weren't there, they'd disappear. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to believe. The thought of freedom flashed through his mind again and he began to dwell on it, attempting to patch together memories of where he'd been born, the place he was going back to. There was green, a lot of it, but also splashes of unique colours not seen in the forests Tevinter. He remembered mutterings in a language he can barely decipher, his mothers face, carefree,  _smiling_ and the smell of nature that clung to her long after they were captured. It was as though he could feel her aura again, the warm, safe pressure on his back that he used to feel when she was in the room, or thinking of him. The flash of brown and blue, the feeling of devotion. He wondered if his father died protecting them, if there was anyone left of the clan he came from, or if the land they once thrived from was in ruin, littered with bones and debris.

If his clan no longer existed, he held on to the belief that there would be another that knew of his clans fate. As he concentrated on that thought, he remembered his mother mentioning another clan, on one of the nights where he was so afraid he couldn't sleep, she'd stroke his hair and tell him stories from before. That particular night he'd asked about his father, his mother held him close and told him about how his father had come from another clan when he was young. She explained that he was a mage, but the other clan already had two, so he had to move away, he didn't really understand it, but he remembered the name of the clan. Lavellan, he was pretty sure. He made sure to remind himself to ask Haris if he knew about the clan when he next had the chance.

They stopped. Elgar'adahlen's eyes darted up to see why, before widening in awe at the ornate entrance to the docks. Grand statues loomed over them, banners crisscrossing. Then he noticed the guards and the awe was replaced by terror. Their eyes were scouring the crowd about to enter, stopping them before they passed through. The closer they got, the more nauseous the young elf felt. When they stopped in front of one of them, he was certain his heart had stopped, time slowing as he checked them over. Anxiety trickled through his veins, thoughts spiralling out of control. They were too suspicious, too elven. They'd be arrested, possibly tortured. He'd be handed bak to his master an- oh. They were walking again, into the docks. Elgar'adahlen exhaled heavily, almost collapsing from relief. They walked further into the docks hurriedly, Haris pushing him gently forward, as quick as he could without drawing attention. 

"Haris!" 

The shout startled Elgar'adahlen and he turned to look Haris in the eye slightly, before spotting a finely dressed man advancing toward them. He froze. It was the guy from that party. Pavus the younger. Haris' grip tightened on his shoulder. Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism would be useful and thanks for reading!


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